The Joy of Interrogations under the Moonlight
by Apoc Genesis
Summary: I wrote this for a contest with my friend to see who could make a more twisted character, and we used FMA for our base. I'd like to think i won


Nobody really knew why Commander Brojnez stayed up until all hours of the night in his office. He was always a hands on officer, even taking on personal missions when he should really be sitting comfortably at his desk looking at pictures of his children and filing out orders. The reason was very simple: he liked to look at the moon at night.

Looking at the moon allowed him to reflect on a full days work, and it certainly gave him peace of mind. In his specific line of work there was too much fire during the day, and too much death. The moon was cold, bright, and silent, and it filled Brojnez with an easy peace that one did not see during the daytime work. It was the way that milky glow filtered through those giant windows and coated his bookshelves in a mother of pearl sheen. And tonight was a special night for Brojnez, because not only was it a full moon, but it also happened to be the same night of the Ishbalan interrogation he had planned.

He sat in his chair and rubbed his temples. The clock read near two in the morning, and it was time for the show to almost begin. It was not so much as the information that would be obtained from those beasts, they already knew where all of the Ishbalan refugees were hidden in the area. It would only be a matter of time before they too were found and interrogated. But keeping them was a waste of food and water, as well as the manpower required to guard them. And although he had placed strict orders for all Ishbalan prisoners to have no more than 750 calories a day, he knew that generous soldiers would provide them with more…they always did. Soldiers like that spoiled the blue and gold that thousands of others so proudly wore…soldiers like that had no right to spoil those colors with their bleeding hearts.

Somewhere in the night a dull metal clang told Brojnez that a door had been closed. Fifteen gaunt and starved figures were marched to the middle of the field right below Brojnez's office. He looked down on those figures and smiled. Thirteen men, one woman, and a small child. Tonight would be a good show. Four guards flanked the beasts on each side, every well polished boot in perfect step with the other. Now THOSE were real soldiers. Efficient, well kept, loyal, and unwavering in their dedication. Only were they more superb in times like this, when the night was young and the rules of the Military Code didn't quite apply.

The men stopped and lined the prisoners up, with the soldiers all standing in a row as if they were going to execute them. But oh no, that wasn't coming yet. There was still much more fun to be had. One of the soldiers stepped forward to speak. "Well it seems as if your pleasant stay here is almost up. But before you go, we would like to ask you some questions."

"P…please let us go," cried the little boy. He couldn't have been any older than eight years old. "We're hungry…we just want to eat. We didn't do anything wrong, please let us leave…"

The soldier nearest to the boy stepped forward and swiftly kicked him in the face. "I DIDN'T ASK YOU TO TALK YOU LITTLE SHIT!" the soldier screamed, "NEXT TIME ILL MAKE YOU EAT MY BOOT! YOU WANT THAT?" The boy didn't answer, he didn't even get up or move at all.

One of the men cried out in horror, "You monsters! All of you he's just a…", but a gunshot quickly ended his protests. Up in the safety of his study, Commander Brojnez smiled and opened a bottle of cognac. He loved to see those Ishbalan beasts put in their place. No treatment was too harsh, and no punishment too severe for a denizen of that filthy blood. The soldiers below him felt the same way, as some of the soldiers held the prisoners at gunpoint as four of them beat and kicked the boy and the man who cried out in his defense. Brojnez remembered fondly the times where he had the pleasure of handling Ishbalan prisoners, and as he listned to the sounds of military leather thump against filthy Ishbalan flesh he recalled many of those moments as if they just happened yesterday.

He recalled fondly how he forced Ishbalan girls to give him "favors" as payment for sparing the lives of their families and giving them only a non-lethal beating instead. How his regiment laughed and jeered at that one. He remembered the screams and cries for mercy as he force fed Ishbalan children phosphorous oxide to watch them glow a hideous green as their inside burned themselves to ashes. The crucifixions of old brought back to life as row after row of Ishbalan elders were raised on the crosses. But never were they enough to keep that Ishbalan disease from spreading…they kept breeding, and breeding like the filthy animals they were. And unless the Military stepped up the beatings, and the murders, they would overrun decent society with their FILTHY DISGUSTING BLOOD as they bred into PURE families, and PURE society…and that couldn't happen. And thanks to fine men in blue who were now cleaning up the mess they had made of the fifteen animals…that would never happen. Not on Commander Brojnez's watch.


End file.
